Geek Girls
by NightWolfMoon
Summary: AU Genderbent Big Bang Theory. Various episodes will be written with the genders switched, some with different turns taken. Rated M for possible sexual scenes in future chapters.
1. New Neighbor

**I: New Neighbor**

Lenore began weaving her wild, burgundy hair into a fishtail braid like in that tutorial Holland showed her—"Guys _love_ playing with hair," she'd said with a wink.

Years of taking the stairs, and Lenore still felt close to winded by the third landing, and her callused hands yanking at her rat's nest of hair made her large, black plastic-framed glasses start sliding down the bridge of her nose. Out of the corner of her eye, her roommate's visage was blurred, but the two had known each other long enough that Lenore knew what would come.

_I can already hear those damn gears turning_, thought the shorter of the two women. They had known each other long enough that Lenore could sit down and type a script of a future conversation and get every detail exactly right.

"Are you still mad about the auction?" asked Shiloh, her high ponytail still miraculously in place.

She wore her mousy brown hair in the same style each day, and photo albums her mother would bring during her annual visitations showed that the tall, thin woman had kept the fringe bangs that glided over her thin eyebrows since the age of eight.

_A little_, thought Lenore. "No." The word came out harshly, making Shiloh blink, and Lenore took a breath, pushing her glasses up into place and giving up on the braid. There were no men in her life to play with her hair anyway. "No, it's fine."

While Shiloh abhorred lying and the Roommate Contract had a clause saying that Lenore would refrain from lying as much as she felt to be within her power, this was not a complete lie. She _would_ be over it by the end of the day, as she always was. Her emotions went everywhere, as though every feeling Shiloh seemed not to possess had gone to Lenore instead.

Earlier that day, the two had signed up to be auctioned off as dates to earn more money—cosplay was expensive. However, at the last moment, Shiloh had decided to bow out, saying she felt as though participating were a falsehood.

"These men expect women with full capacity of possessing sexual urges and arousal," she'd whispered, fingering the black ring worn on the middle finger of her right hand.

"There's some lesbians out there," Lenore had whispered back. "Some could also be bi, so I'm sure there's an ace or two out there that recognizes your ri—"

"None. I saw absolutely no rings or asexual pride buttons or bracelets," Shiloh had responded, shaking her head to where her ponytail smacked the blonde behind her, causing her to swear. The brunette had been too nervous to notice, so Lenore had agreed they could leave. "A member of a minority, any asexual in the group would advertise as such as I, and there are none."

They had left quickly, moments before the host called out their names. They'd need to think of another way to get the money.

The two finally reaching the third landing and heading towards the final flight of stairs, Shiloh stayed quiet for a second—only one; otherwise she would not be Shiloh Leigh Cooper.

"Wish to hear an interesting fact about stairs?" she asked, tone implying she sincerely found the information fascinating.

Lenore groaned.

Undeterred, Shiloh said, "If one stair is off by only a mere two millimeters, the person will trip."

"No one cares!" The two started up the flight, and Lenore's brow furrowed as she pursed her thin lips. "_Two_ millimeters? Okay, that sounds made-up."

"It's true!" Shiloh replied, a spark in her grey-blue eyes showing she was glad to have the interaction in one of her topics—many people brushed her off right away. "I did a series of experiments when I was twelve. My father broke his clavicle."

From what Lenore had heard of Shiloh's father, she could not help but smirk. "Wait, is that why they sent you to boarding school?"

"No, that was from my work with lasers."

A teenage Shiloh building a laser in a garage in Nowhere, Texas _was_ a scary thought. The poor cat.

The two reached their floor, and Lenore stuck her hand into her right jeans pocket to retrieve the key when she noticed the door across from theirs wide open.

In plain sight was Mr. Tall-and-Handsome, Lenore finding herself mentally thanking God that while women got boners, the clitoris was too small for it to be seen, unlike the male penis.

Tall-and-Handsome was head and shoulders taller than her, but probably only an inch taller than Shiloh (Shiloh was about six-foot-one and towered over most of the man at the university they worked at). His hair was peppered with all shades of blond, definitely not from a bottle. He was tanned, though only lightly, as though from the sun and not a bed or cream. He stood a few yards away, unpacking a large box marked **Clothes 1** on the side in scribble-like handwriting, but Lenore could see that his eyes were bright blue, like the sky or maybe the ocean if they were at the Caribbean.

She had never thought of using "beautiful" for a man before, but standing just ten feet in front of her was the male embodiment of that word.

_Dad, you're wrong_, thought Lenore, the spinning, condensed heat in the stomach and groin refusing to ebb. _God _is_ real, and he is a _fine_ artist._

"New neighbor?" she asked no one in particular, blinking and happy to hear that her voice wasn't squeaky—that was how she'd gotten labeled a freak when taking the plunge to ask Bobby Steiner out in eleventh grade.

And Bobby Steiner had _nothing_ on Mr. Tall-and-Handsome.

Hands grasping the strap of her army-green messenger bag, Shiloh looked over at the hunk but didn't experience anything like the shorter woman was.

"It appears so," she answered coolly. She observed a new person as their neighbor, but aside from there now being a person she may or may not be able to avoid, Shiloh felt nothing. She preferred keeping to herself, a few close relationships trumping the wider array of companionship Lenore had craved since childhood.

"Big improvement over our last one."

"You have always been transphobic," said Shiloh. "Diana got us tickets to watch the Pride parade when she performed. While the dancing was questionable and would make my mother wish me to be re-baptized, and of course the crowds had me scrubbing my skin for hours that evening, you rather enjoyed yourself. And let us not forget the name she chose is the same as your favorite heroine."

Lenore rolled her eyes but then froze when they met those of Mr. Tall-and-Handsome.

"Oh!" He seemed to notice the two women for the first time. "Hi."

"Hi," Lenore squeaked, damning herself. God, this man's voice was like ambrosia for the ears.

"Hi," said Shiloh more coherently, friendly but not overly so.

"Hi," Lenore said again, voice back to normal.

Shiloh's eyes darted towards her friend, as if wondering if this was part of a social convention she was not aware of. "Hi."

Mr. Tall-and-Handsome paused for a moment, smile a little strained. "Hi."

Oh, God, they were going to scare him off! Lenore could just die.

Coughing, Lenore stepped forward, hands moving as she spoke. "Sorry to interrupt," she said once she was at the doorframe, Shiloh right behind. "We live together across the hall."

"Oh!" The man's smile brightened again, blue eyes like sparklers. They were lined with long lashes any woman would kill for. "That's nice. My cousin Angela just moved in with her girlfriend a few weeks ago."

The heat in Lenore's loins dissipated and flared in her cheeks. "No! I-I mean, um, we d-don't live _together_, um, I mean, w-we do, b-but we live together in separate, um, rooms, and…"

God, her face probably looked like a tomato ready to be thrown at a bad actor.

Chuckling, Mr. Tall-and-Handsome approached, Lenore having to look up, trying to keep a grip on the paper bag she was holding. She was right about his height—an inch taller than Shiloh.

"Well, I guess I'm your new neighbor. My name's Peris."

Before Shiloh could rattle off random facts about Paris, France (or worse, Paris, Texas), Lenore hurriedly replied, "I'm Lenore."

Following suit, the taller woman gave a nod. "Shiloh."

"Hi," said Peris.

Shiloh: "Hi."

Lenore: "Hi…." _How many times have I said that? I probably look like an idiot. _"Well, welcome to the building."

"Thanks!" Peris enthused. "We could all meet up sometime."

"Great," Lenore replied with a smile, hoping not to seem too eager.

"Great," said Shiloh.

"Great." Peris gave a nod, looking like he was ready for this to end but was too polite to cut it short.

_Oh, manners too_, thought Lenore. _Lord, help me now._ "Well, we'll let you unpack. Bye."

"Bye," Peris responded.

"Bye," said Shiloh.

The door closed, and the two women headed for their apartment.

"Do you think we should have invited him to lunch?" asked Lenore, already knowing that such an event would have ended in disaster.

"Of course not," Shiloh responded, waving her off before unlocking the door. "We're going to start on season two of _Battlestar Galactica_."

"We've already watched the entire season." They'd ordered the DVD last month.

"Not with commentary!" Shiloh closed the door as Lenore went to place the paper bag holding their lunch onto the coffee table. The key was dropped into the bowl kept by the door.

"He's new, so we should invite him over," Lenore insisted, tearing out the half-braid and pulling her hair back into its usual low ponytail. The white scrunchie was limp, the elastic worn. She'd have to get a new pack soon. "Widen our circle."

Setting her messenger bag by her desk, Shiloh replied, "Oh, I have a very wide circle. I have two-hundred-sixty-four friends on Facebook."

"And you've never met any of them in person."

"That's the beauty of it!"

Setting her brown-and-red messenger bag by her desk, next to Shiloh's and closest to the door, Lenore said, "We're neighbors, so we should be neighborly."

"You never invited Diana over."

Lenore paused, remembering her shocked reaction when she had met David upon first moving in and then meeting Diana about a year later. She wasn't exactly proud of it, and she knew it hadn't helped the woman's coming out process. "And that was wrong of me."

She headed back to the other apartment and knocked on the door.

Peris answered a few moments later, smile kind.

"Hey…" Why was Lenore doing this? Goddammit, men were supposed to be the ones with two brains. "We have Indian food, and from experience, I know moving in can be tiring, and comforting food and good company can really help with that sort of thing. Also, Indian food is a natural laxative"—_Goddammit, shut up you idiot!_—"and when you have a clean colon… that's… just one less thing to worry about…."

Leaning down, Shiloh murmured, "I know I am not as knowledgeable in social convention, but I believe when it comes to issuing invitations to share meals, one does not mention bowel movements."

Something told Lenore Shiloh's mother had been the one to tell her that.

"Oh!" Peris caught on. "You're inviting me to have lunch with you?"

Not trusting her tongue, Lenore nodded, and Shiloh straightened to nod as well.

"Sounds great." Peris grabbed a key from a table and closed the door as he followed the two women into their apartment. "Thanks."

"No problem," replied Lenore with a smile, hoping her face didn't look like a tomato again. She waited for Shiloh to open the door, deciding not to question why she bothered locking when they were only going across the hall. "Feel free to make yourself at home."

She wished she'd worn at least a skirt, the jeans and loose **WWTDD?** (What Would The Doctor Do?) T-shirt completely unflattering. It was a large, and with her breasts, wearing such shirts often made people assume she was overweight.

"Lenore, you do this?" Peris asked, pointing at the board. "It looks… really impressive."

_What was that pause?_ wondered Lenore. _Was he thinking 'geeky'? Am I too smart? Wait, don't think that. If I'm too smart for him, than to hell with pretty-boy_.

She had standards, even if her hormone did not always share them.

"That's actually my work," said Shiloh, not missing the chance to show off. "Just some quantum mechanics with a little String Theory along the edges. And that's a joke." She pointed to something along the edge. "A little spoof of the Burton Weinheimer Approximation. Humorous, correct?"

The look on Peris's face was one Lenore had learned to recognize around Shiloh: "I have no fucking idea what any of that means."

_Please don't be put off by smart women,_ Lenore prayed. _Please! Just one hot guy who doesn't want ditzy arm candy!_

"You're like one of those beautiful mind people," Peris said to Shiloh, looking impressed, and Lenore just about melted.

_Thank you God! I swear, I will donate ten percent of next month's paycheck to the nearest church!_ Lenore's knees were weak, but she managed to get the food out of the paper bag and set the boxes onto the coffee table.

"Really impressive," Peris went on, and the heat in Lenore's belly turned into a painful spark of jealousy.

Pirouetting (if turning so fast she almost tripped could be called such), Lenore pointed at a white board sitting atop a shelf right of the door.

"This is my board," she breathed, heart still galloping from the near-fall. "If you like boards, this one's mine."

Turning, Peris smiled as he walked over, and Lenore's heart soared.

"Impressive," he said with a bob of his perfect head.

Walking over, Shiloh said, "If by 'impressive', you mean a derivative reiteration of any scribble you'd see on a bathroom stall at MIT, why yes, it is."

Looking over at her roommate, Lenore's mouth fell open, glasses sliding down. Couldn't she be nice just this once! Admit _for once_ that her work was important as hers?

Actually, Lenore found experimental physics to be more important than theory, seeing as she was actually putting into practice something that could change and better the lives of people. All of Shiloh's work could, with just one pull of thread (no pun intended), implode, turn to nothing. String Theory could not even be proven, anyway. The most any of them could say was that "Oh, look! My idea has internal consistency!" Whoop-de-freaking-do.

But did Lenore ever say that to her? No!

Because she was her friend!

"At least I didn't have to invent twenty-six dimensions just to make my math come out right!" Lenore returned before her brain could reign in her tongue.

"I did not invent them!" Shiloh insisted. "They are there."

"In what universe?"

Lenore could already hear the answer.

"All of them." Somehow, she managed to say this with complete sincerity, though Shiloh's range of facial expression was small to begin with. "And that is the point."

"Um, girls?" Peris questioned, sitting—oh dear God, no.

As Shiloh was turning, Lenore's face was already in her hands. _Anywhere else. He could have sat _anywhere_ else._

"Mind if I start eating?" he asked, oblivious to the mistake he'd made.

And why not? It was something no one would think of, and Lenore should have thought to have said something before.

When Holland had kept making repeat offenses just to get a rise out of Shiloh, Lenore had had enough and just given her a book on Asperger's Syndrome and had said if she hadn't learned to stop or at least cool it down, she wouldn't be allowed back in the apartment. Luckily, after reading the book (the first that wasn't erotica in possibly ten years), Holland had agreed on the terms Lenore had set.

"That is my seat," said Shiloh coolly, though the slight edge to the tone showing she may not stay cool for very long.

Still oblivious, Peris patted the spot next to him. "Then sit next to me."

Blinking, Shiloh was quiet for a moment. "No, that is my seat."

"Here we go…," murmured Lenore.

"In the winter, that seat is close enough to the radiator to remain warm yet not so close as to cause perspiration. In the summer, it's directly in the path of a cross breeze created by opening windows there"—she pointed to the window in the back—"and there…"

Lenore zoned out. She had heard the spiel numerous times and could recite it by heart. She sat in the club chair, wishing Peris could stay close, but she wouldn't lie: She was thankful when he did the gentlemanly thing and scooted over, Shiloh rushing to her spot as if he may try to claim it again.

"This is nice," said Lenore, hoping the tension would melt. She grabbed a tin of mild curry and rice. "We don't have company over."

"Sure we do," Shiloh argued, and Lenore felt like beating her head against the wall. "Rameshwari Koothrappali and Holland Wolowitz."

"I know—"

Shiloh turned to Peris, who gingerly took the last tin after Shiloh picked up hers (the man could be taught!). "They come every Tuesday night. We play Elvish Boggle—translated into Roman alphabet, of course—until one in the morning—"

"I remember!" Lenore squeaked, mixing the food with her fork as she cleared her throat. "So, uh… enough of us. How 'bout you?"

"Me?" Peris sat the tin down, hands moving expressively as he spoke. "Well, I'm a Sagittarius, which probably tells you a good deal—"

"Yes," said Shiloh after swallowing a bite of naan dipped into her curry sauce. "That you participate in a wide-spread delusion that somehow the sun's approximate proximity with a certain constellation on your date of birth somehow holds course in your personality and, where the delusion deepens, the compatibility with yourself and another person and even your future."

Lenore cleared her throat again, trying to get Shiloh's attention.

"You do move against the current in the fact that it is often adolescent and young adult females more likely to be trapped in this delusion. That is a small consolation, though—"

Lenore was practically stabbing the meat. "I think Shiloh is _trying_ to say that Sagittarius wouldn't have been our first guess."

"Ah, yeah." Peris nodded. "Most people think I'm a water sign."

Lenore glared at Shiloh, and the taller woman thankfully caught on enough to stay quiet.

"And my sister and I became vegetarians when we were in high school," Peris went on. "Well, sometimes I eat fish. And the occasional steak. Good Lord, I _love_ steak. The rarer the better. My mom always said she just has to burn the hair off and I'll eat it. She was always worried I'd get tapeworm or something."

_I'm a big fan of meat too_, thought Lenore, trying to keep her tawny-brown eyes on his chiseled face. "Job?"

She cast a look towards Shiloh, not wanting her to go on an hour-long lecture about how steaks were perfectly safe so long as the surface area was cooked, depending on the grade of beef; the mercury content in fish and how there are a few fish farms popping up that use their waste to provide nutrients to crops; or the different types of vegetarians and that eating any sort of red meat knocks one from being identified as any.

"I recently got one at the Cheesecake Factory as a waiter," Peris responded, the smile saying he didn't plan on staying there any longer than necessary.

"I love cheesecake!" Lenore piped up after finally taking a bite of curry.

"You're lactose intolerant," said Shiloh. She turned to Peris. "Last time she only ate half a cup of frozen yogurt, and—"

"Just because I don't eat it, doesn't mean I don't want to," Lenore said rapidly with a forced smile. She turned back to Peris. "Anything else?"

"I'm writing a screenplay." His smile looked more natural now.

_Artistic, kind, hot as hell_…, Lenore crossed her legs. _With this boy, I'd never get to sleep_.

Gaze sliding over Shiloh and Lenore as he spoke, Peris explained, "It's about a small-town boy from a farming town in Kansas who leaves in his dad's old pick-up to move to California and pursue his dream of becoming a famous actor, hitting some road bumps on the way—'cause a good story needs conflict, right?—and he has to pay his way to the big time by first becoming a waiter at the Cheesecake Factory."

The look on his face was like a puppy's, waiting for a treat.

_My fucking jeans are going to be soaked_, thought Lenore. "Oh, so it's based on your life."

"No, I'm from Nebraska and drive a used Jetta."

Shiloh sat up and stared at Lenore, who gave her a glance that said to keep quiet.

"Well if that was a movie," said Lenore, "I'd like to see it."

Whoa, Momma, that smile! Even after braces and a retainer, Lenore didn't have teeth that straight. And the bleach would eat through her enamel before she could match those pearly whites.

"Well, that's the life of Peris." He combed his fingers through his hair. "Well, at least until I met that b—" He bit his bottom lip. "I lived with a girl for four years. That's as long as high school!"

Blinking, Shiloh turned to look at him. "It took you _four years_ to finish—"

"_Eh_!" Lenore hissed, and Shiloh went back to eating.

Not having seemed to notice, Peris took a breath, eyes closed as he shook his head. "But all she was doing was stringing me along. With _three_ other guys, and that was actually the best thing she ever did to me. _God_. And the worst part? I still love her." His eyes opened, brow furrowed and those baby blues so deep and shimmering so brightly, Lenore lost her entire train of thought. "Is that crazy?"

Shiloh patted her lips with a napkin. "Yes—_ow_!" She glared at Lenore and then went back to eating.

"No," Lenore assured, thoughts coming back. "It's not crazy at all. It's… a paradox. Life's full of them. Like… light." _Shut up._ "Look at it one way, and it's made up of waves. Then, Albert Einstein shows that light also behaves like particles."

Peris blinked, confusion mixing with the sadness.

_Shit. Um… I didn't make it worse?_ She caught Shiloh's look telling her that she might as well have made it worse—she was probably more upset with such a shoddy explanation about light.

"My dog could have said it better," Lenore could almost hear her say, "and Spot has been dead for nineteen years and six months."

Blinking rapidly, Peris leaned back, the front of his white, V-neck shirt stretching over his chest. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded like that. It's just been a long two weeks getting my stuff out of her apartment, my mom still trying to talk me into moving back home, and to top it off, I haven't been able to shower in two days. Mine's not even working yet. You two must think I'm a total slob."

Shiloh hummed something noncommittal, while Lenore blurted out, "We have a shower."

"It wouldn't be weird at all for me to use it?"

"Yes," said Shiloh as Lenore replied, "No."

Shiloh turned to her friend. "No?"

"Not at all," Lenore urged, mind already creating pictures.

"Thanks so much." Peris left to shower, and Lenore set the food onto the table. There were too many butterflies for any more curry to stay, so she got up and headed for the kitchen area, Shiloh following.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?" she demanded, standing at the kitchen island as Lenore filled the red kettle with water and set it onto the stove. "Lemon."

Lenore got out the wooden box of assorted tea bags and two mugs, placing the lemon one in the Batman one and an orange spice teabag into the Fantastic Four mug.

"What do you mean?" Lenore knew she sounded nowhere near as nonchalant as she wanted.

"You will not be having any sexual relations with him," Shiloh said—bluntly, like always. "You do realize this? Or are you suffering from a delusion as well? Taurus?"

"Gemini," corrected Lenore.

"Aha!"

"Aha, what? My sister bought a bunch of horoscope and astrology books when we were kids to piss of our mom." Lenore rolled her eyes and walked around towards the short hallway, the bathroom on the right. She could hear the sound of the water running and tried not to think too much of him… naked… that thick, long—_Stop it, brain_. "And how do you know we'd never…" She didn't want to say it aloud for fear of him hearing. "I'm a female… He's a male…"

_And he was with a girl and says he still loves her, so he's not gay_. She'd been ready to drop to her knees and sing Hallelujah at that. When he'd mentioned horoscopes, she'd gotten nervous.

"Not of the same species," said Shiloh. "And do you think he'd be ready to engage in cloitus after seeing your Bones shampoo?"

"Kirk," Lenore corrected in a small voice, heat returning to her cheeks. She returned to the stove, the water heating up. "Bones is the body wash, and Spock is the conditioner."

The door swung open, Holland and Rama bursting in, the petite woman carrying a tape. "Guys!" she cried, seeming excited, huge dark eyes wide. She put it into the VCR and then stood up to lean against the TV, pencil skirt riding up her leg as she cocked a hip, hand lying on it as her red lips curved into a satisfied smirk. "Stephen Hawking. MIT. Nineteen-seventy-four."

"Now's not a good time," Lenore told them, heart skipping a beat at the thought of Peris walking in on them.

The kettle whistled, and she poured the tea, Shiloh's first. She took the mug and a spoon to her spot, Rama tossing her long, midnight braid over one shoulder as she sat next to her. She wore a red baseball cap backwards, a swoop neck showing cleavage—at Holland's goading, most likely.

"It's not a good time," Lenore repeated.

"Why?" asked Rama, getting up to head for the refrigerator, pulling on the capped sleeves of her plum-colored top.

"Stop that," Holland told her. "You look sexy."

"I feel like I'm about to pop out," Rama complained, retrieving two cream sodas and tossing one to Holland when she was close enough.

"At least you actually _have_ something to 'pop out'." The petite woman exaggerated Rama's Indian accent, earning a glare. "You shouldn't hid the puppies like Lenore does."

Getting out a spoon, Lenore shot a look at Holland. "_Hey_!"

"With that last guy you dated, you told us when you guys were about to initiate in cloitus, his jaw dropped when your shirt came off and he saw you had jugs instead of flab."

_Yeah and the other part of him went straight up_. "And I was immediately turned off." _Made me feel like he had said yes because he saw it as a pity date with the fat girl. Pig. _"Now go."

Rama went back to the couch. "Why do you want us to leave?"

"Lenore has a male friend over," said Shiloh, placing the tea bag onto the spoon, wrapping the thread around the stem.

Heading to the couch while taking a swig of soda, Holland barked a laugh. "Right. Paw paw's back to visit?" She combed her dark hair back, the layers framing her round face and split ends brushing her shoulders.

"He's our new neighbor," said Lenore, disposing the tea bag and taking a tentative sip of tea.

Looking up, Holland questioned, "Oh, anticipating cloitus?"

"No—"

"So I—"

"_No—_"

"Hey, girls, how do you switch it to shower—" Of all the times for Peris to walk into the living room with a towel wrapped around his slim waist.

He looked like he could have become an Olympic swimmer.

_I'd eat his cereal_, thought Lenore, taking a sip of tea.

"_Ciao_," gushed, Holland, handing her bottle to a wide-eyed Rama before sashaying over to Peris. "I'm Holland Wolowitz. Cal Tech applied physics. I got a machine up and running. And by up, I mean space, taking high-resolution pictures of Jupiter's largest moon." Her eyebrows bounced as she smiled.

"I'll show you the trick with the shower," Lenore said hurriedly, taking Peris back to the bathroom and jiggling the faucet. "It sticks. Here." She yanked down on it, the faucet blocked and the water changing course to come out through the shower head.

She then rushed back into the living room as he was thanking her.

Once the door was closed, Shiloh looked up from her mug and said, "You think with your clitoris."

"That's a biological impossibility," muttered Lenore, taking her tea from the island and going to her chair. "Rama, you okay?"

Looking down at her bottle as she handed Holland's back to her, Rama nodded quickly.

"She'll be fine," said Holland with a wave. "Shoulda seen when the guy working at the store in the mall asked if we found everything alright." She looked back towards the bathroom with a look Lenore really hoped had not been on her face. "Hot damn, if that top says anything about his bottom…" She bit her lip and shuttered. "Oh, to be bent over that knee…."

Shiloh looked at Lenore. "I cannot say your odds in comparison with the population of the world, but in his apartment, you are an Aphrodite."

Smiling, Lenore sipped her tea. _Our babies will be smart _and_ gorgeous…_.

_**I also already have a chapter for season 1 episode 2 already written, so that should be up soon, but after that, the next chapter I will write will be from season 3 episode 23 - when Sheldon meets Amy. I'm still debating whether to genderbend Amy (in which case I'm still thinking of a name), or if she will stay Amy. I already know I see Sheldon (and therefore Shiloh) as being demi-romantic (she only experiences romantic attraction after first having an emotional connection with that person), but whether this is demi-hetero-romantic or not, I am not sure. You guys are free to say if you want Amy or male!Amy in a review, and I may end up deciding from there.**_

_**I also want to write a chapter of the episodes showcasing Howard and Bernadette, and I think I'll keep Bernadette female in this case (I view Holland as being bi- or pansexual). I think Holland meeting with Bernadette's father will be interesting to write.**_

_**If you guys want me to write a specific episode, please feel free to review or send me a PM. But I have classes, so keep in mind I may not be able to update regularly (and if any of you have followed my past stories, you already know that...). Anyway, I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter. :)**_


	2. Big Brain Hypothesis

**II: Big Brain Hypothesis**

"No peanut oil, right?" asked Holland, taking the plastic box from Lenore.

Thai wasn't the best idea of cuisine when one of them was highly allergic to peanuts, but after the first time of getting Thai for dinner on Wednesday, Shiloh would not allow them to change. Thursday night was Thai night—no objections.

"Um…" Lenore thought for a moment and then straightened up. "Okay, everyone keep an eye on Holland, and Rama, keep your cellphone in case we need to call nine-one-one."

Taking a large bite of food, Rama nodded, sitting on the chair pulled over from Lenore's desk. Her phone was on her knee, dark eyes moving to the screen every few seconds to see if she got a notification from the dating site Holland signed her up on.

Rolling her eyes, Holland took a small bite of her food, waited, and then gave a nod before pulling her long hair back into a ponytail secured with one of the rainbow of bands currently worn on her left wrist. Since she was required to keep her hair secured during work, she always made sure to have plenty ties and bands at the ready.

As she went back to eating, Rama made the mistake of asking for chopsticks, earning a lecture on Thai eating habits and norms. As she spoke, there was a knock at the door, Lenore thanking God—she still needed to get that tithe to the nearest church—for a distraction. She still remembered how to make stinky tofu after last month when Shiloh noticed said dish advertised at their usual Chinese restaurant wasn't made like the original recipe.

Lenore still refused to eat _any_ tofu.

At the door was Peris, making Lenore's heart skip a beat. At least her hair looked presentable—Rama had put it in a French braid earlier tonight. Unfortunately, she was wearing another one of her loose nerd shirts, this one with the anti-possession symbol from _Supernatural_.

She hadn't worn it in months and found out this morning when Shiloh went on for almost an hour about the history of the pentagram and how it was associated with various groups, the image on many graves from people living in the seventeen- and eighteen-hundreds. She had also quoted a few stanzas from _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_, when Sir Gawain took a shield and banner with a pentagram marking them.

Regardless of what was on her shirts, though, Lenore was sure Peris thought she was overweight. She did have some chub from enjoying food more than exercise, but looking at the piece of man candy in front of her, running in the mornings started to sound like a nice idea.

"Oh, you have company?" asked Peris as Holland shouted at Shiloh to shut up.

"They're not going anywhere," replied Lenore with a small chuckle. She took in the kakis; white, button-up shirt, and mustard-yellow sweater vest. Not the most flattering outfit, but he made it work. "Good day working?"

"Eh, same drill as usual. People order cheesecake, and I deliver it."

"So you're like a carbohydrates caterer." _Stupid! Stupid!_

"Either way I get paid less than minimum wage, and a lot of the people there are cheap tippers." Peris sighed. "Anyway, I really hate asking you for a favor—"

"I can do it," Lenore blurted.

"Really?" Peris looked relieved. "Thanks. See, I have some furniture being delivered during my shift tomorrow, and if no one's there to claim it, they just take it back to the store. I already asked the landlord, and he'll let me keep the furniture there until my shift ends, so all you have to do is sign the paper. That okay?"

"Yeah, perfect."

"Thank you so—"

The others crowded the doorway, and leaning against the door frame, Holland said something in Italian. Lenore only recognized "_bello_", "_uomo_", and "_trapanare_".

"Um, what?" asked Peris, smiling awkwardly.

"Never heard 'You're the most handsome man I've seen' in Italian?" asked Holland.

_Pretty sure _trapanare _means 'have sex with' or something close to that, _thought Lenore, but she stayed quiet.

"No," Peris answered.

"Get used to it, _bello_." Holland winked.

Taking half a step back, Peris waved at the others. "Hey, Shiloh."

"Hello."

"Hey, Rama."

She gave a short wave but stayed silent, eyes moving from the floor to him and back.

"Still not talking, huh?"

"Do not take it personally," said Shiloh. "She is unable to speak in the presence of males."

"Well, _attractive_ ones," muttered Holland, wincing when Lenore stepped on her toes.

"Wish to join us?" asked Lenore, wanting the subject changed but instantly regretting the offer. She feared making her chances to be with Peris worse—Shiloh would just have to say the wrong thing or go on a rant or lecture a few minutes too long; Rama would stay mute; and Holland… was Holland.

"What are you all doing?" Peris asked.

"Thai food and _Superman_ movie marathon," Lenore answered quickly.

"Marathon?" asked Peris. "How many movies are there?"

Blinking, Shiloh questioned, "You're kidding, right?"

Deciding he didn't like looking the idiot in front of the four women, Peris tried continuing the conversation: "Well, I liked when Louis Lane was falling and Superman caught her."

"Yes, damsel in distress," muttered Shiloh, making Lenore want to step on her foot too. "You would like that. However, yes, that scene is interesting, though it does showcase how the movies go against physics."

"Yes, I know fully well people can't fly."

Shiloh stepped forward, full in lecture-mode. "No, let us assume they can. Now, Louis Lane would be accelerating at nine-point-eight feet per second. Hitting Superman's arms of steel, she would have been sliced into three pieces. If he'd loved her as he proclaimed, he would have allowed her to hit the pavement. It's a faster and less gruesome death, and the mortician would still have enough to work with to keep her presentable enough for the funeral."

Suddenly forgetting about Mr. Tall-and-Handsome, Lenore stepped forward. "Okay, now, you're assuming Superman's flight ability is an extension of his super strength."

"Well, of course," said Shiloh as though it were obvious and she were speaking with a young child. "It _is_ an extension of his ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound, which he gets from Earth's sun."

"Which means he _really_ should be fighting crime in the nude," murmured Holland, getting lost in a fantasy.

"He'd break you," Lenore told her.

Eyes closing, Holland smiled. "But boy, that is a hurt that would be worth the power of that steel hitting my spot over and over."

Rolling her eyes, Lenore turned back to Shiloh. "Explain how he can fly at night."

"The sun's reflection off the moon and energy storage in his Kryptonian skin cells," Shiloh responded, keeping the haughty tone that grated on Lenore's nerves.

"Excuse me?! Okay, I have over a hundred _Superman_ comics in my room. I _dare_ you to find even one mention of Kryptonian skin cells."

"Oh! Challenge accepted, my friend! And when you lose, prepare—"

"Guys."

They all looked over at Rama's voice, knowing what her speaking meant.

She pointed at Peris's door. "Hot guy left."

"Well, at least we have a hot man inside that _can't_ leave us," Holland sighed, heading into the apartment with the others following.

**x x x**

The delivery man left soon as Lenore signed the papers, the box taller than Shiloh and almost as wide as Lenore's arm span leaning against the wall next to the busted elevator.

"Okay, time to go." Shiloh started up the stairs when Lenore grabbed the hem of her Flash T-shirt.

"No, I think we should get this thing up."

Stopping on the third step, Shiloh paused before walked back down. "Excuse me? We were asked only to sign the papers. Peris and the landlord will get it up into Peris's apartment when he has arrived back from his shift at the Cheesecake Factory."

"And we can do something nice by getting this up there for him."

Shiloh's eyes narrowed; the light bringing out the specks of green. "You are thinking with your clitoris again."

"You realize he said we don't have to carry this up is because we're females, right?" Lenore stifled a smile when she noticed the corner of her roommate's wide mouth twitch. "We're the damsels in distress in his story. So by carrying that up, we're showing him and every guy that has ever accused us of being fake geek girls that females are heroes too. And don't forget when Kripke took your boxes away when you first moved into your office at the university. What was that he'd said to you, again?"

"That a 'beautiful, dainty flower' should not carry such weight. I reminded him that there are many flowers considered beautiful that are poisonous to the touch. Such as Brugmansia, commonly known as the angel's trumpet. They are rich in Scopolamine, hyoscyamine, and several other tropane alkaloids. All parts of the plant are poisonous, the seeds especially so. They had been used for making poisons for years, the effects including migraines, hallucinations—"

"I got it," Lenore interrupted, checking the time on the pocket watch she wore around her neck. The front of it was designed to look like Tony Stark's ARC reactor.

Turning to look at the box, Shiloh pursed her lips. "Fine."

The two got to work getting the box up the stairs, but it was much heavier than anticipated.

"What is this entertainment system made of?" grunted Shiloh as they finally managed to turn the box to reach the first landing. "Oak?"

It took nearly an hour for them to get it into Peris's apartment (Lenore had been given a key for emergencies), but once inside, Shiloh just looked around with wide eyes.

"Oh, Cesar's ghost." She went to the couch and coffee table, having to step over magazines and clothes. "How is anyone able to live in such filth?"

"You know, not everyone feels a need to sort and label everything in the world."

"That is a world I wish not to live in."

Lenore rolled her eyes, looking around. So this was where Peris lived. A little messy, but everyone had flaws. "What are you doing?" She pushed her glasses up into place as Shiloh started picking stuff up from the floor.

"Cleaning. And don't get me started on how he may expect a female to do his cleaning for him. I do not care. I cannot stand the thought of this sort of waste cluttering up any space other than a landfill."

"It's not your home." Lenore took the clothes out of Shiloh's hands and dropped them, grabbing her by the shoulders when she tried to bend down for them. "You never did this with David."

"Diana."

"Gah." Lenore shook her head.

"You've always been bad at that."

"My mom raised me on the Freudian principle that non-heterosexuals were stuck in a certain stage of development. Sue me. Now come on."

As Lenore pushed her out the door, Shiloh went on another lecture: "And Diana kept this place _immaculate_. Books were arranged by genre and in alphabetical order by author, bowls and plates arranged by color and shape, clothes in perfect order even down to the hangers…. And just for the record, Diana is heterosexual. She moved so as to live with her fiancé."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, keep it moving. Wait, how come you know so much about how she organized things?"

"She often had trouble with computers and came to me for help."

"Ah." They were out of Peris's apartment, and Lenore closed the door behind them.

**x x x**

Jolting up from bed, Lenore tumbled over the edge and onto the hardwood floor. _Naruto_ and Pokemon plushies tumbled off the bed around her, and by her hand was a blue Dalek plushie Stella gave her last Christmas.

Groggy, she didn't see it, screaming when her hand pressed down on its body, causing the toy to shout, "Exterminate! Exterminate!"

"Fuck!" she gasped, falling over onto her back, her lightsaber falling and smacking her face. "Great…."

Blinking as she rose, Lenore got her glasses from her nightstand, knocking over the manga Rama had talked her into reading. She then put her glasses on and took hold of her lightsaber. The immediate area was soon awash in green light. She kept a firm hold as she exited her room, noticing that Shiloh's door was open. She always slept with it closed.

"Shiloh?"

Moving into the living room, Lenore set down the lightsaber onto the coffee table and went to open the door. Peris's apartment was open, Shiloh in full view—cleaning.

"Oh, God." She went as quickly and quietly as she could, looking over where Peris's bedroom was to make sure he was fast asleep. "What the hell are you doing?" she whisper-yelled as she turned back to face Shiloh, who was folding a pair of boxers. _Dear God_.

"I could not sleep knowing that I was in such proximity to this filth."

"So you break in and start cleaning."

"Naturally."

"There's nothing natural about it!"

A loud snore and the squeaks of a mattress sounded from the bedroom, making Lenore's eyes go wide.

"I suggest you keep your voice down," Shiloh whispered.

Going over to the wall, Lenore touched her high forehead to the smooth surface.

"Ahem, if you have time to lean, you have time to clean," said Shiloh in a low voice.

Looking around and knowing there was no use in trying to get Shiloh to leave this alone, Lenore sighed.

"What the hell."

**x x x**

As Shiloh did not like coffee—once even going as far to say it was like slow-acting amphetamine—Lenore did not make it often. This morning, though, she would need all she could stomach, her fourth cup sitting in front of her on the kitchen island while she still wore her Totoro kigurumi, the hood up in an attempt to hide her hair. It was more like a rat's nest than usual today.

Humming, Shiloh skipped into the living room and filled the kettle before setting it onto the stove.

"I slept so well last night," she said in a chipper tone. "Not long, obviously, but the amount of REM sleep was just perfect."

Lenore imagined wrapping her hands around that pale, pencil-like neck. She used to be called Man Hands in high school, so snapping Shiloh's neck should be simple, right?

"I feel so well today, in fact," Shiloh went on, looking at the cereal boxes sitting atop the refrigerator, "I think I'll go with a low-fiber—"

Cutting her off was Peris's explosion from his apartment: "What the living fuck?!" There was a pause, sending Lenore's heart into a gallop. "Oh, my fucking God, the little geeky—"

"How does he know it's us?" Lenore squeaked.

"I left an organization sheet," answered Shiloh. "He should be thanking us."

Instead, there was loud knocking on the door, Lenore swallowing before going to answer it.

Putting the box of Honey Pops back, Shiloh chose a box of cereal with the highest fiber content.

Lenore stumbled back from the door flying open, and she sighed, mentally saying good-bye to every fantasy she'd had of them in bed.

"The two of you seriously _broke into my apartment_ last night?" he demanded, looking to be trying as hard as possible to keep his cool—and failing.

The door was kept open, but Lenore was sure Peris would hold himself back from doing anything to either of them.

_Being thought of as the weaker sex can have its perks_, she thought. "We're really sorry, and I've already spoken with Shiloh on how what we did goes beyond a person's general feeling of security and thus breaking a major social construct."

"Yes," Shiloh chimed in, pouring cereal into a bowl. "We spoke about it at length last night. However, do you not agree that the new arrangement of your material items make your life easier?"

Peris looked ready to blow up, the anger on his face making Lenore's heart fall. She couldn't even focus on how he looked in that blue robe, some of his chest hair visible. It was sparse and not that long, telling Lenore that he got regular waxing done.

_Not now_, she thought. "It will never happen again."

"Look, I appreciate you two taking up my entertainment system. You really didn't have to do that—"

"Because our fragile-looking blooms disguise the fact we carry pois—"

"Not now!" Lenore hissed.

"Key, please," Peris demanded, and Lenore held in a deep sigh as she retrieved the spare from the key bowl and handed it to him.

He left, slamming the door behind him.

"He will come to appreciate what we did for him," said Shiloh with surety, putting the cereal box back and getting the quart of milk from the fridge.

"You _really_ think so?" Not waiting for an answer, Lenore pointed at the door. "Now, you are going to go over and apologize."

"Sarcasm?"

"_No_."

Shiloh sighed and put the milk away after pouring the desired amount. "Alright, fine. Social curtesy is madness, having to apologize for work done out of the kindness of one's heart."

She left the door open as she went to Peris's door, knocking three times before it swung open, her fist still in the air.

Sitting on the couch, Lenore was hidden from view as she listened.

"Yes?" asked Peris curtly.

"I apologize deeply," replied Shiloh, sounding as though the words were being rung out of her. "I did not realize entering a person's private space without permission even when doing something that makes their lives better and easier was considered wrong. Do not blame Lenore. It was not her plan, and she tried to talk me out of it. She also lectured me at great length on why it was wrong. Also, to use Holland's words—forgive me Mother—she makes love like a succubus straight out of hell."

There were plenty of places to hide Shiloh's body. She'd pissed so many people throughout her life, anyone could be a suspect. Holland and Rama would give Lenore an alibi; she was sure of it.

There was a door slam, and Shiloh returned, closing the door behind her.

"I tried," she said before going to eat her cereal. "And now it's your fault my cereal will be soggy."

_I could just kill her right now, _she thought as the kettle let out a shrill whistle. _Blunt force trauma to the skull, stab wounds to the chest. Anything would work._

But Lenore only went to change into clothes for work, feeling lower than dirt.

**x x x**

That night, it was Rama's turn to pick up dinner, the carry-out boxes in plastic bags she prayed didn't break—Shiloh did nothing but glare at her for two weeks straight last time that happened.

On the third landing as she headed for the stairs, long braid bouncing against her back, she heard heavy footsteps. Her eyes widened, and she immediately backed up, spotting Peris wearing a V-necked T-shirt and tight jeans—sweet work of the gods, it was tough dragging her eyes back up to that chiseled face when those bright blue eyes met hers.

Peris was carrying a laundry basket, and he paused upon recognizing Rama.

"Hey, you must have heard what Lenore and Shiloh did to my apartment, right?"

Swallowing, Rama nodded.

"I was just so weirded out and felt violated, and people assume two girls breaking into a guy's apartment would be a dream, but…"

_My, he's chatty_, thought Rama, zoning out. _They've done studies on speech right? What was it? Men tended to initiate conversations more? They also tended to interrupt more, yet whenever asked who spoke more, they often responded saying it was women?_

"… bad relationship, and it's hard, ya know? She was so manipulative, and I felt like I could never reach out…"

_God, he's adorable. What bitch cheated on a god with three paupers?_ wondered the woman, trying to keep her gaze locked with his.

"… never expect the guys to be abused, or mistreated really. I already know my brother would call me a pussy, though my sister would shoot her like she shot her husband, but don't worry, it was just his leg, and the two of them were drunk when it happened…"

It was hard to pay attention, and the others were probably wondering where she was.

"… guess I just had trouble trusting women, ya know? But just because my last two girlfriends can't be trusted, doesn't mean it's the same with Lenore and Shiloh, right?"

_Oh!_ thought Rama, blinking. _He asked me a question. Just nod._

She smiled and gave a nod, Peris smiling back. That was the right thing to do.

"You're a great listener," he said. "Thanks so much." He took a half-step forward and hesitated. "Um, would you mind a hug? It's alright if you don't."

Trying to keep her smile from looking creepily giddy, Rama held out her arms, and Peris set down the basket before hugging her.

_He's warm. And strong. Oh, and he smells so good._ Rama was dizzy when he let go, waving as he picked the basket back up and headed towards the stairs.

Rama nearly skipped the rest of the way up, no longer worrying about the bags breaking.

Lenore was going to like hearing that things between them and Peris were just fine—and Rama looked forward to rubbing the hug in their faces.


End file.
